Houses With No Love
by NetherVoidWanderer
Summary: Glimpses into the home lives of several charectors. Daydreams and emotions run rampant in the mind but the Houses allow for no such foolishness.
1. The House of the Hyuuga

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!" She screamed at the blank faced man sitting next to her. Swollen fingers arched into claws as she leapt over the table and swung at him. No one had expected such a thing from her. Not her, never her. To quiet and introverted to ever _dare_ do something so crude. He, especially, had not expected it and was sent flying. There was an awed shock and horror as the eyes of the houses rested on her heaving shoulders, they could see her veins bulging and the contorted look of hatred on her face. "I hate you! I hate this house! There's no love in this house, there's no love in these people! What have you done to them? What have you allowed to happen to us you arrogant prick!" She screamed as his stood up with more grace and poise than one sent sailing across the room should've had. His movement was swift, concise and showed years of practice and habit. The palm that connected with her chest sent her sailing backwards and skidding over the table scattering and shattering plates. The houses were silent as they watched and the mouths that had flopped open in disbelief were now set firmly to identical lines.

It was true what she'd said, the houses and people radiated no warmth towards each other. It was as if all emotion had been stripped away leaving only shells of people behind, the only emotions they had were of themselves. Either they were the holier-than-thou members of the Main House or they were the dreggy shits of the Branch House. Neither of which were ideal.

The girl stood, more emotion emanated from the girl's left eye then had been exhibited from both Houses in four generations. But her cold, righteous fury was met only with indifferent gazes and apathetic lines few would call mouths. She screamed and threw herself at her sire; hands flashing and she tried to hit him. Her raged strikes were met with emotionless blocks and bored dodges. He didn't meet her rage any differently then he had met her silence. Indifference. Emotionless-ness. Apathy. Not surprise, not a horrified gasp that she would saw such things and that she would act as such.

But what was to be expected? He reacted the same to any emotion she ever displayed. It was sad, really, that no matter what she did or how she acted he wouldn't care. At all.

-

Hinata let the daydream slip away and she lifted her head. Someone had spoken to her and she'd wanted to respond with '_What do you want?' _But she responded with a 'yes sir' instead, avoiding eye contact like that plague and handing him the requested bowl of food. She wanted to sigh but... well… her 'family' was around and when the 'family' was around, emotions weren't. Simple, cold, dead, hard truth.

There was no love in either of the Hyuuga houses. And while everybody knew that… nobody seemed to care.


	2. The House of Uchiha

At first it had been hard, going back to an empty house; a house that, when the wind blew hard enough, still smelled of blood and betrayal. A house that had expected so very much from its members. A house that had been slaughtered by one of its best; one of the best. It was a dead house now; dead outside and in.

The person that lived there was dead to.

Though his heart kept on beating he was dead to the world. He had, in fact, died with the rest of them. But his damned body wouldn't let him go. His damned body wouldn't release his soul and let him sleep with his family. His own flesh and blood (or at least what had been left of them) scattered to the four winds leaving a single child as the heir and legacy so their name wouldn't be forgotten.

And he had grown up in that place of the dead. Grown like a strange warped tree in a cemetery. Oh of course nobody had known this. To them he was just 'Sasuke-kun' or 'Bastard' or 'The last Uchiha' or a genius. It's not that he wasn't Sasuke, or a bastard, or the last, or a genius; he was. And he was all those things at them same time. But people seemed to think he had designated times for each of those things, Sasuke-kun from dawn to noon, Bastard from noon to three, the last from three to eight and a genius from eight to midnight. No… he was always a bastard and always the survivor and always a genius and always, _always_ Sasuke.

Whether the house had people in it or no it really didn't matter. The love had been superficial while they were around. The marriages had been arranged, the children were bred like dogs, shown off to the villages before being matched with their statistically compatible spouse where they would spawn more children so that the cycle would repeat itself.

Some nights, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind moan through the house and pretend it was the voices of his fallen clan… he'd allow himself to be sad, to dwell, to brood, and to mourn over what had been lost and what had been set before him. Sasuke knew that after Itachi was dead things wouldn't simply fall into place and he could assume a normal life (as normal as a ninja's life could be anyway). He knew that once Itachi was dead things would only get harder. Then…he really _would_ be the last. A rare breed run out. Pity.

His house was a place of death, blood, no love and coldness. And in all the things his house was and wasn't he really couldn't bring himself to care beyond killing his brother.


End file.
